


Incompatible

by twopinkcarnations



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aphrodisiacs, Drinking, F/M, Heavy Petting, Kissing, Making Out, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 15:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12535376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twopinkcarnations/pseuds/twopinkcarnations
Summary: Michael does the right thing.





	Incompatible

Eleanor reclines heavily against the back of the plush couch, a nearly-empty glass of something ruby red loosely clasped in her hand. God, she just needed some  _air._ Her blood felt like it was _boiling_.

"Oh, hello, Eleanor."

"Hey, buddy," she slurs. "Come sit here."

She pats the cushion nearest to her, and Michael obliges.

"You're not drunk," she says, eyebrow raised. It’s almost a question.

"No, I'm afraid not."

Eleanor struggles to sit up and bumps into Michael as she does so.

"You should try this," she says, holding her glass to his lips. "It'll wreck you."

Michael takes her wrist and guides the drink away from his mouth.

"I can't get drunk. At least, not in the same way as humans."

She attempts to put the glass down on the coffee table at their feet, but she misses the edge, and it falls off the table. It shatters and sends shards of glass in a million directions. The white carpet quickly stains a blood red.

"Fork me," she curses.

Eleanor goes to stand, but Michael, still holding her wrist prevents her from rising.

"Let Janet do it. You're in no condition. You'll cut yourself."

Eleanor gives him a look. It’s her now-classic face scrunch that tells him she’s thinking about something very seriously.

"You're being nice to me, which is really weirding me out. And you haven't let go of me, and I'm kind of into it."

Michael chuckles.

"I figured you would be."

"What?" she asks.

Michael clarifies, "It's the wine. It's Bad Place wine. It's designed to—"

"Make you super horny?" Eleanor interjects.

"Correct."

Eleanor leans into him further, pressing him back into the arm of the couch.

"Oh, so you guys are like sex perverts here, huh? And you followed me to get lucky. That's disgusting!” A beat. “I mean, unless we're <i>both</i>, like, into it?"

Michael weighs his options. He shrugs.

"Maybe."

"'Maybe'?"

She undoes his bowtie and the first few buttons on his shirt. His hands come up to grip her hips, and soon they're grinding together in a way that Eleanor is kind of digging. Suddenly, she stops.

"I'm dizzy," she says.

"So what?" Michael asks.

"You're right."

She crushes her mouth to his, and he shoves his tongue inside, mimicking what he'd like to do with her later. He grabs her ass in both his hands, and she moans.

"You wanna continue this elsewhere?" he asks.

There's no space here, no privacy. They can still hear the people and demons as well as the music at Vicky's party in the other room. Anyone walking out of the ballroom might see them and catch them in the act.

"No, here," she says.

The couch is a bit cramped with both of them on it, but she doesn't really care.

Eleanor pulls her lips away from his, and Michael sees her mouth is stained the same red as the once-pristine carpet. How much had she had anyway?

"I want you inside me," she breathes. Her hand slips down to the front of his slacks. "God, you're not hard yet? What else do you want from me, man? Are you a blowjob guy or something? You need to see my tits first? What?"

Michael laughs.

"It's a bit more complicated than that. Humans and demons are sexually incompatible."

She stares at him for a moment, trying to decipher what he means. The room is still spinning. She kisses his lips and neck while his hands explore her hair.

"Are you really, really sure?" she asks.

"It's possible, but not pleasurable. At least, it wouldn't be for you."

"I'm so wet, Michael," she breathes into his collarbone. "Like a waterfall. Please?"

Michael always did enjoy begging, especially when it was for relief from something tortuous he'd caused, but this was different. He fixes a stray lock of her hair.

"I should go, Eleanor."

"Nooo, don't."

Gently, he pushes her off of him, and they sit up.

"What would Chidi say about the ethics of taking advantage of a boozy woman at a party?" he asks.

Eleanor licks her lips.

"You're right," she agrees. “I hate that you’re right.”

There's a moment of awkward silence.

"Eleanor, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let my curiosity get the best of me. And I should have told you about the effects of the wine."

Eleanor waves a dismissive hand.

"Honestly, I still would've drunk it. And I would say kissing a demon was something I could cross off my bucket list, but..."

He awkwardly pats her knee as she trails off.

"I've never kissed a human before," Michael admits.

Eleanor snorts.

"You could've fooled me."

He's smirks because he's flattered, and Eleanor really isn't so bad. 

"You go home and sleep this off. Vicky has something real mean planned for tomorrow. You'll need to be ready."

She half-smiles and stands.

"Thanks, Michael. See you in the morning."

She leans down and gives him a kiss on the cheek before walking away on wobbly legs.

As he watches her leave, he decides he'll ask Janet to make sure she was safe in bed.

Because, okay. He could admit it.

He cared.


End file.
